


Restoration

by killingxrangers



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Time Travel, clarke is a mess, clexa is a hot mess, everyone is a fuckin mess, just as a heads up, not the typical time travel though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:57:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingxrangers/pseuds/killingxrangers
Summary: Clarke Griffin fell asleep in her bed at her apartment on March 3rd, 2023, and woke up five years in the past, where her father was very much alive and her family was still whole. She still hung out with Octavia and Raven and everyone else every day, and still got into trouble on the weekends. With no clue what happened to send her five years into the past, Clarke decides the only explanation must be she’s been given a second chance to save her father. But she made mistakes during the first attempt at being a teenager, and has the opportunity to repair them- consequences be damned. Everything that went wrong in 2018 she’s going to repair- her family, her friends, Lexa.Clarke has a second chance, and will do anything to make 2023 better.





	1. October 9th, 2018

“Good morning, honey.”

The words are such a terrifying combination of familiar and foreign that Clarke Griffin jerked awake in the bed the moment those words left his lips. The words were soft, slow and gentle, like he always spoke to her in the morning. He knew she was dead to the world, knew she despised how her mother would rip the door open too loudly and wake her up. That’s why Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s, when Abby was already long gone for her shift at the hospital so it was on Jake to make sure their daughter woke up on time, was Clarke’s favorite.

But this morning, all mornings like this one, hadn’t happened since she was eighteen. Since her father died in that car accident driving home from work late one night and everything in Clarke’s life changed. His death was four years ago, and Clarke was close to twenty-three now and living in a completely different city than the one she had grown up in. So why was she suddenly hearing her father’s voice? Suddenly in a much larger bed than the twin sized one shoved in a corner that she’d grown accustom to ever since moving to Baltimore?

“Dad?” The words are choked as she sat up, her eyes blearily from sleep (or tears?), staring at the man from her memories, dreams and nightmares. He looked… so normal. So perfectly healthy and so like the loving man Clarke had grown up under. Nothing like the corpse, too mutilated for an open casket, that so frequently haunted Clarke’s sleep. “D-Dad?”

Jake frowned, stepping into the room more. The room, Clarke realized suddenly, that she had decorated at fourteen. Before than, her parents had painted the room a soft purple when she was ten, with white furniture and inspiration phrases stenciled on the wall. Clarke remembered arguing at thirteen to change it to a ‘more mature’ style, to which her mother responded the room was fine for now. At fourteen Jake had taken his daughter’s side, and convinced Abby to let Clarke do what she wished. Purple changed to grey, the full sized bed with a canopy and the telltale signs that it used to be a bunk bed changed to a queen with an upholstered headboard in the center of the room. The inspirational quotes were covered up, shelves added to accumodate the many pictures of Clarke’s friends, the mementos from boyfriends and vacations.

The apartment Clarke shared with three other people at twenty-two had nothing on this bedroom, this house. That apartment was small and cluttered, Clarke having grown used to sharing the tiny space with another med-student. They all tended to flock together, used to working and studying at hell-ish hours. But this.. this house in an upper class area of DC…

“Clarke, honey, you’re really pale. Are you feeling okay?” Jake spoke again as he placed the back his hand on Clarke’s forehead. The urge to jerk away from overwhelming and she had to force herself to remain still. He looked… so like the man she remembered. He hadn’t yet shaved for the morning, dark stubble lining his chin and cheeks, rough and hard how Clarke knew her mother couldn’t stand. Jake would have just woken up a few minutes ago himself, still dressed in a pair of worn sleep pants Abby kept urging him to throw out and an old college t-shirt. Coffee would be brewing on the pot downstairs in the kitchen, a gross green smoothie in two cups that Abby insisted they all drank in the morning would be untouched in the fridge. She made them before she left for work, and Clarke and Jake used to dump them down the drain, both of them wearing conspiratorial grins the whole time. Abby never knew. 

“What… what is going _on_ ,” Clarke breathed the question, unable to keep the question in as she stared at her eyes. Tears threatened to spill over and she knew her dad could see them in her eyes. “What.. what’s _happening_?” 

Jake sat on the bed, his hand moving from Clarke’s head to grip her cheek, part of his large hand around the back of her head, his thumb near the arch of her nose. He was worried, Clarke could hear it in his voice. She wasn’t acting right by his standards and nothing was right by her’s. “Clarke, baby, Clarke, you’re worrying me.” 

He turned her this way and that, checking her over for… something neither one of them knew. This was mental, not physical. Something was seriously wrong in her brain. Last night Clarke had gone to bed as a twenty-two year old med student, her roommate still up studying at her desk at two in the morning. They’d had leftover pizza for dinner again because none of them had the time to go out shopping or even to pick up a quick meal. Money was always short for all of them with no reprieve anywhere on the horizon. 

Today Clarke had woken up back in her old bedroom in a large house in DC, where she knew, no matter what age she might be right now, money had never been a thought in her mind. Abby was the chief of general surgery at the hospital, her father the head engineer with a government contract. Clarke had never had a single worry in her mind aside from what her and her friends would be getting up to this weekend. She drove a BMW and had unlimited access to her parents AMEX. Things were good. Great. Until her father died. 

“Daddy?” 

Clarke hadn’t called her father daddy in years, ever since she deemed herself too old for such a childish term. He’d been dad ever since, but Clarke was _scared_ right now. Any minute she’d wake back up in her shitty apartment and go about her shitty twenty-two year old life. 

“Did you sleep okay, baby? You don’t seem sick, what’s wrong?” 

How could she say this wasn’t right? This time period and this life and this interaction wasn’t right? He would have been dead for four years now. Would have told her goodbye and to enjoy school one morning and never said anything afterwards. Her and Abby’s relationship would deteriorate rapidly and Clarke would lose herself in sex and drugs and alcohol. 

“I…” She couldn’t say any of those words, not without looking crazy. Whether this was a dream or not (though it felt so painfully real), Jake wouldn’t understand any of it. So she smiled, threw her arms around her father and hugged him tighter than she probably ever has before, and said, “I didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.” 

* * *

Octavia Blake was standing directly across from Clarke, smirking and holding her black school bag that Clarke distinctly remembered they’d always use to smuggle beer into Clarke’s basement. Twenty-two year old Clarke hasn’t spoken to Octavia Blake since right before she turned nineteen. The two of them got into a fight, bad enough to end a years-long friendship (though in all honesty, their relationship had been deteriorating all throughout their first year of college and that first semester of sophomore year. But now, standing before her was seventeen year old Octavia Blake, her best friend since childhood. Her hair was still long and straight, simple compared to the styles she would soon begin to favor. 

“Where’d you go last night? I went off with Raven and by the time I came back you were gone.” 

Clarke had no idea what Octavia was talking about. Could barely focus on the sentence, actually. She was so engrossed in staring at her friend, her best friend, that all other thoughts escaped her. Standing here, in the crowded school hallway as Clarke struggled to remember her combination lock, she can’t remember why that fight was strong enough to break up this friendship. She’d never felt closer to someone else than she did to Octavia Blake. There had always been something about Octavia, a bond that, at the time, nothing could seem to even rattle. 

Octavia shoved Clarke’s shoulder, a habit that had developed early on when Octavia thought Clarke was being particularly weird about something. “What is up with you today? You haven’t even said one word to me.” 

“Sorry, hi,” Clarke shook her head, forcing herself out of her memories (though, did they count as memories if they’re yet to happen? Soon-to-be memories? Thinking about this was giving Clarke a headache). “I, uh, barely slept last night and I guess I’m still out of it.” 

Octavia waggled her eyebrows, something that Clarke remembered used to drive her older brother Bellamy insane, especially as it tended to follow Octavia deciding to do something stupid. “Is that why you left yesterday? Ditched me for Finn, huh?” 

God, Finn Collins. Even just thinking about him now caused a pain in Clarke’s heart that she wasn’t ready for. She had forgotten all about Finn Collins as soon as she left for college. He cheated on her senior year and lied about it for months. The truth came out the day before graduation, and she hadn’t talked to him since. The thought of seeing him now, seventeen and handsome, full of that teenage confidence that first attracted Clarke to him… 

“Uh, no, uh, sorry.” That sentence was a mess, offering no explanation to why Clarke was out of it or why she had ditched Octavia. She couldn’t recall what last night was, which meant nothing important could have happened for her to remember five years later. Something with the group, or just Octavia? The ringing bell saved Clarke was trying to think of something, and Octavia said bye quickly, moving towards the hallway that housed most of the English classes, leaving Clarke to sort out her combination on her own. 

Like last night, the combo was clearly not worth retaining in her mind for all those extra years, and she soon walked away without any books, wandering aimlessly  as she didn’t know what class she had right now. All she knew was: 

  1. She was seventeen again and a Junior
  2. Her father was still very much alive 
  3. She’s still dating Finn Collins 
  4. Still friends with Octavia Blake and everyone else 
  5. Her and her mother still communicate 



She remembered the big things, the stuff that shaped her into the adult she was becoming at twenty-two. Finn cheating, getting drunk during senior prom, that stay in the mental hospital, her mother dating Marcus Kane, accepting the offer at Georgetown for pre-med, _Lexa_. Clarke wouldn’t even allow herself to think about Lexa fucking Woods right now. 

“Griffin, any particular reason you’re wandering the halls without a pass?” 

Why is it that, given all the things that Clarke can’t remember, she without a doubt can remember the sneering and mocking tone of _fucking_ Mrs. Pierce. Spinning around, Clarke isn’t surprised to find the same level of hatred she felt at seventeen flaring up now as she looked at the woman, scowling immediately in response. “Going to the bathroom, Mrs. Pierce.” The lie came easily, one she used so many times at a teenager to this very woman and many more. 

“If I were to escort you, I wouldn’t happen to find Octavia Blake and Raven Reyes in the bathroom waiting for you, would I?” 

And this time, for perhaps the first time, Clarke could honestly answer, “Of course not, ma’am.” She couldn’t help the smirk that came to her mouth despite the statement, and Mrs. Pierce frowned in return. “I just need to pee, ma’am.” 

Mrs. Pierce pointed in the opposite direction, towards the math hall, and it clicked a memory into place. Clarke had AP Calculus this period, a class filled predominately with seniors. She didn’t hate the class, though she still operated under the assumption that it was impossible to love math. The first time around taking the class, Clarke had rued her mother for forcing the course upon her, because who needed AP calc anyway? But once she reached college and that was one less class to worry about, she couldn’t have been more pleased. So, without a response to Mrs. Pierce, she turned and headed towards the maths section, a class she now knew she didn’t share with anyone important enough to her story. 

They’d come later, she thought. Octavia in AP English 11; Jasper in art; all of her friends in lunch; Raven in history; Octavia and Raven in Physics… The list went on and on. It wasn’t a surprise she did poorly this particular year. Her mother had been on her the entire Junior year, yelling about poor performance and how did she expect to get into med schools went grades like those? Clarke couldn’t fault her mother, despite not listening to what Clarke truly wanted, and it took a decent amount of pull on her mother’s end for Clarke to be accepted into Georgetown to begin with. 

Was that was this was, then? A second chance to improve her teenage years? Her adult life wasn’t ideal, but it would get better. She needed to get through med school and then things would get better. She couldn’t think of anything to do now, in this time period, that would improve her life at twenty-two. No matter what she did med school would follow, and Clarke’s father would- 

April Nineteenth. 

That’s the day of his death. Was that why she had come back to seventeen of all ages? She’d never been more depressed in her life than at that age. It all started with her father, so-

Clarke would stop it. She would prevent him from going to work that day, or leaving at that time. Something. She would do something, _anything_ , to stop him from dying. It was early October now. She had time. She’d be patient, and smart, and would let no one know that she wasn’t seventeen year old Clarke, but twenty-two year old Clarke who lived in Baltimore and attended Hopkins. And she would stop her father from dying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this is just a super short intro to what this story will be about. It is Clexa, and that’s a relationship that will be explored later on, as it happened to Clarke as an adult and as she tries to fix it now. Other relationships are Octavia x Lincoln, Bellamy x Echo, and Raven x Luna. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr for updates or to talk! my name is killingxrangers  
> thanks!


	2. Chapter Two- October 31st, 2018

**TW: Rape**. It’s not described, only mentioned through second hand accounts. It’s all throughout this chapter in brief passages, but once again the actual act is never once written.  It is through Clarke’s thoughts and memories that the assault is mentioned.

 

* * *

 Clarke knew this date, had it engrained in her memory, even at twenty-two. This day, this moment, would never leave her mind. It’s been nearly a month since Clarke woke up in this seventeen year old body and believed she was here to save her father. She’d done nothing differently since then, had followed the path she’d originally forged to the best of her memory, even going as far as continuing to date Finn, despite knowing what was to come. She would already be changing the future severely come April, and who knew what that would alter. She shouldn’t risk changing anything more.

And yet.. yet...

This one Halloween had nearly wrecked things beyond repair. Nearly wrecked _Raven_ beyond repair. Knowing what was to come... knowing what was going to happen to Raven tonight... Clarke needed to do something.

The party was Jasper’s idea, as all stupid things tended to be, though if he hadn’t suggested this one specific party someone would have suggested another. It wasn’t his fault, even though he would feel that way in the coming days for mentioning this event. It wasn’t Bellamy’s either, who felt responsible for letting Raven out of his sight for more than five minutes. It wasn’t Raven, who faced accusations at school when the news went public, and was told shouldn’t have worn that costume. It was no one’s but the guy who pinned her down in the bathroom and raped her.

Who faced no kind of repercussions because he was white and on a college’s football team, and Raven was a slutty girl who drank too much.

It would not happen again. Clarke would make sure of that.

She had thought she was here to save only her father. That had been the only thought in her mind these last few weeks, until she woke up today and realized why she had come back in _October_ 2018, not April 2019. There was so much more she could stop, so much more she could change, that would improve everyone’s lives.

“I don’t want you driving tonight. If you’re too far to walk back home or to one of your friend’s, call us. We’ll come pick you up.” Abby wasn’t stupid, and while she wanted to operate under the impression Clarke was innocent, she knew otherwise, and knew how tonight would go. Or, how she thought it would go. Would hopefully go, if Clarke could change anything. They’d go drink and hang out, wake up tomorrow and talk about what they’d gotten up to. There’d be do police reports and hospital trips, no hours spent in the bathroom with Raven, watching sobs wrack her body.

“We’ll be safe, mom,” Clarke said with finality. And they would be. Nothing was going to happen tonight. She kissed her mom’s cheek and walked out the front door, where Bellamy was waiting in his beat up car, Octavia and Raven already situated and in costume. The three of them were flappers and Bellamy a mob boss, a stupid group costume that Clarke used to think back on and smile. Before Raven spiraled out of control and-

“Hey, Griffin, catch up.” Raven tossed a bottle at Clarke, which explained while her and Octavia were already giggly and Bellamy looked annoyed. He gave her a pleading smile as she held the bottle but didn’t open it. There would be no drinking on her part, not tonight. She’d been drunk and distracted by Finn the first time around. Tonight, there would be no excused. She wasn’t leaving Raven’s side.

Somehow down the line, Clarke had forgotten what a high school party was like. College parties tended to be... more mature. The music wasn’t as loud, the alcohol not as cheap, and the people (while still horny) knew of how to talk about things other than how high or drunk they were. She didn't miss this part of being a teenager in the slightest. She’d live it once, and it had been more than enough. 

“Drink up, ladies,” Jasper laughed, thrusting a cup in everyone hands as soon as they walk through the door. The party was in full swing, most people in costumes and some indistinguishable behind plastic masks. “You’re way too sober. You still aren’t attracted to me,” he joked, causing everyone in the vicinity to laugh as well. 

Raven took a sip and responded, “There isn’t enough alcohol in the word to make me attracted to you, Jordan.” At that, everyone laughed harder and Jasper shrugged good-naturedly, laughing with them. They all broke apart soon after, though Clarke made sure if she wasn't right next to Raven she kept the girl in her line of sight. 

They’d been at the party for almost an hour when Octavia appeared at Clarke’s side, her pupils wider than than average. She was sober enough to ask, despite her slightly slurred speech, “You good? You aren’t drinking.” 

“Someone should stay sober to watch all of you heathens,” Clarke joked, searching the room until- There. 

Paxton fucking McCreary. A college freshmen and older brother of one of the boys at this party. He was home for the weekend and looking to party. He’d told the jury he’d been drinking, a mistake on his part he admitted with regret clear in his voice. He would look at the jury and say how sorry he was that the events had happened, but from his point of view Raven had wanted it. She dressed and acted like she did, and Paxton acted under the guise of believing implied consent. The jury ate it up, and found him innocent. 

The bastard was a rapist, and Clarke could see he was already looking at Raven, standing near the dining room and laughing with Bellamy. 

“Clarke?” Octavia followed her gaze to Paxton and frowned. “Do you know him?” 

“I’m not feeling that well.” Clarke forced herself to look away from Paxton and frown at Octavia, faking sickness. “I didn’t eat before I came here, and I think I’m getting my period soon, and I’m just.. super nauseous. Can we head home soon?” It was close to eleven. Raven didn’t get trapped in that bathroom until much closer to twelve. There was still time. 

Octavia frowned as well, staring at Clarke hard. “You’ve been acting funny a lot recently. Is everything okay?” 

“I’m fine, Octavia. I just.. want to leave. Can you get Raven and let’s go?” 

She’d have to drive, based on how Bellamy was using the wall for support and Octavia could do little more than nod dumbly before shuffling off to gather everyone up. There’d be questions about this in the morning, but Clarke would take all the questions if it meant protecting Raven. 

* * *

 The news spread around school quickly Monday morning. The gossip had originally spread from the girl’s locker room, as all things tend to do. It focused on the party Saturday night. The very same one that Clarke and her friends had attended. A good portion of the upperclassmen were at that party, bouncing between that one and others for a long night of fun. 

But the news came suddenly and spread just as fast. A girl had been raped at that party. Some freshmen who Clarke didn’t know, would never have known otherwise. And this... this was not part of the story. Not at all. It was supposed to be _Raven_ , and when Clarke took her home, it was supposed to all be okay. 

But a girl was still raped by Paxton fucking McCreary. 

The school held an impromptu assembly in the gym before third period, as they had for Raven. The principle didn’t outright say it, but everyone knew he was talking about the girl, some kid named Charlotte. Clarke would bet the girl wasn’t in school today, and apparently neither was Paxton’s brother. Paxton had been arrested in the middle of the night, after the girl and her friends went to the police. 

Clarke knew nothing was going to come of it, and that thought laid too heavily in her stomach for the remainder of the day. Raven and Octavia asked why she was so quiet multiple times, and it was all Clarke could do to keep her mouth shut. How could she explain it should have been Raven, not Charolette? How could she explain that if she hadn’t asked to go home, Paxton would have trapped Raven in that bathroom and did the very same thing to her he did to Charlotte? Would it be better or worse that it was Raven, and not some fifteen year old freshmen? Did her age make it better? Did being Clarke’s friend make it worse? 

“The school sent out an email today about your assembly,” Abby mentioned at dinner later that night, all of their food untouched and their eyes downcast. “Was that the party you were at?” 

Clarke shook her head silently, forcing back tears as she pushed around the pile of corn and potatoes. 

“It’s a shame what happened to that girl.” Jake responded, shaking his head in disgust as he took a bite of chicken. Abby nodded her agreement as he turned to look at their daughter. “I know you and your friends go out to parties, Clarke, and while your mother and I may not agree with that, we understand. We’re just asking you to be careful. Saturday it was a random girl. Next time it could be you or one of your friends. Always be on your guard.” 

He didn’t know how right he was. Clarke jerked away from the table, blindly standing up and rushing to her bedroom. Jake and Abby called after her, but she barely made it to the toilet quick enough to vomit in it. Any more delayed and it’d have gone all over the floor. She heaved multiple times until her stomach settled, and even then she stayed on the floor with her head pressed against that cold toilet for a while longer. 

Thoughts of Charlotte plagued Clarke well into the night, sleep rendered impossible as she kept thinking about that fifteen year old girl. Were mistakes made tonight? Should Clarke have said something, something to anyone? Said something to _Paxton_? But what would she say to him, to anyone? 

I know what's about to happen? I know what you’re about to do?

And say she did say something. Say she went to Bellamy and told him some guy had his eye on Raven all night and something didn’t feel right. Bellamy would cause a scene, him or Octavia, Clarke knew that. Paxton would most likely argue and fight back, but ultimately he’d leave. Until the next party, and the next girl. Had he done it before? No girls came forward the firs time around, so Clarke assumed it was the first attack. Would that spur on more? Was Raven, or Charolette, the catalyst that started it all? 

Clarke doesn’t know, and its driving her mad. 

Those thoughts swam through her mind for the next few days, the school seemingly back to normal and would continue to be normal until the trial began- if there was one. Raven decided on a trial, but Charolette is not Raven. She went to the police, and Paxton was arrested, but he was back home the next day. Did Charolette recant, or was there lack of evidence? 

Lack of evidence and reliable witnesses is what ruined Raven’s case. 

Would Charolette suffer more of the same fate as Raven? Would the events transpire the exact way? 

“Raven and Bell want to hang out tonight. We haven’t see you since Halloween.” Octavia’s voice trails off at that statement, both her and Clarke’s minds immediately going to the party. “You know,” Octavia changed the subject when Clarke failed to reply. “Apparently the police are interviewing people that were at that party. They’re trying to get evidence.” 

Clarke knew it wouldn't bring anything. The police interviewed a bunch of people from the first party and no one had anything to say that would help. Many were afraid to admit they were drinking underage and therefore lied, said they were somewhere else. Others said they hadn’t seen anything at all. Even Clarke and her friends couldn’t testify that they’d seen Paxton follow Raven into that upstairs bathroom. 

“Monty said he heard from some of Charolette’s friends the police aren’t finding much.” Clarke isn’t sure why Octavia feels the need to share, but each new word is another stab to her heart. Clarke had saved Raven from all of this, but at the cost of Charolette. “It’s all really fucked up, huh? Can’t believe any of this happened. This is shit you see on TV, you know?”

“Yeah...” Clarke sighed as the two of them walked through the halls, heading from their third period class to the lunch block all of them shared together. Bellamy was already at their usual table, sitting next to Monty, who had his arm thrown around the back of Harper’s. If memory serves correctly, they would have been dating for close to a year by now. When Clarke is twenty-two, Harper is pregnant with their second child. There is nothing to change about their storyline, she’s relived to realize. Everything that happened to them worked out in their favor. Both of them are unmarked by death or heartache, and staring at them now, so carefree and joyful, she’s suddenly taken by a powerful wave of jealously. 

She’s jealous of them all right in this moment, she’s ashamed to admit. Of Bellamy and that confident smirk of his, Octavia and her shameless attitude. Monty and Harper’s love, Jasper’s humor. All of it. They are unmarred by adulthood, by loss and tragedy and despair.

Charlotte was raped because of _Clarke_. Because of what she did for her friends. 

“Where are you going?” Monty frowned, ever the observant and caring one. Clarke had turned away from the table, headed back towards the exit. 

“Bathroom,” she forced herself to respond, and marched straight towards an open stall. She locked the door and didn’t come out until lunch. 

In that moment, she hated them all and hated herself, hated this stupid fucking attempt at a redo on her life. 

* * *

“Where have you been recently, kiddo?” 

Clarke was in the theater with her father, both of them silent as Jake enjoyed the movie and Clarke enjoyed watching a movie with her father. Abby would be home late tonight if she came home at all, and Clarke didn’t mind. A new round of interns had started at the hospital and Abby was busier than usual with their introductions. These next few days as everyone became acclimated would be hectic in the least. 

“I’ve been here every day, dad.” Clarke frowned at the question, refusing to break her gaze from the movie even though she could feel her father’s on her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his broad shoulders raise and fall with the sigh he let out. 

“You’re here but you’re not _here_ , Clarke. You’ve been distracted recently.” His tone was soft, gentle and encouraging. The way he sounded when he wanted Clarke to open up, to admit what was bothering her. Most of the time, it worked. She knew there was nothing she could ever possibly do that would change how her father viewed her, changed how he loved her. But this... she couldn’t go about this. Because a part of her was afraid he might very well change his opinion about her when he learned what had happened to Charlotte. “If there’s something going on, Clarke, you know you can talk to me. Your mother and I can help with whatever is happening.” 

Clarke forced herself to look away, forced herself to meet her father’s eyes and smile. She couldn’t keep the pain off of her face and she knew he could see it. Jake had always been able to read her like a book, except this time he could never know the story. “I love you, dad.” 

“I love you too, baby,” he said automatically, the words falling from his mouth without any sort of hesitation. “What is going on? Talk to me.” 

“I-” Words escaped her then, all thoughts fleeting as she struggled to come up with something, anything. And then she was crying. For Charlotte, Raven, her dad, herself, her twenty-two year old life. Everything. “Daddy, I don’t know what to do.” She curled into his side, hiding her face in his chest like she did so often when she was a child and had a bad dream. And just like then he wrapped her arms around her, kissed her forehead. “I think- I think I messed up, but I don’t know, and-and... I don’t know what to do. I thought I was doing the right thing, but... I don’t- I don't _know_.” 

And that was the truth of things. Clarke didn’t know what was going on or what to do. Because yes, Raven had been saved, but at the cost of any girl’s sanity and innocence. Would that be how everything Clarke tried to change went? She could save one person but damn another? And when it came time to saving her father... preventing his death... would that mean killing someone else? Would it count as Clarke murdering someone, even if she didn’t physically do the killing? Just knew that saving her father cost someone else their life? 

There were still five and a half months between now and April Nineteenth, and so many events took place before then. There was time to find a way to save her father and everyone else. She _would_ do it. 


End file.
